Herbalists' Cache If I could, begin to be

His journey carried him onwards. It seemed that he was too late for whatever pack laid out here, there were scents, but all had been washed by the rain. Something amongst the smells had seemed familiar, but with all this cursed rain there was no deciphering it no matter how much Cal sniffed around...so he continued on.

Brewster seemed to be far behind now, it had been unintentional to wander so far, but the High Elk had brought him this far surely he would survive until they reunited. Though, his uncle's paw was worse than his own burns. Calhoun liked to believe his own were healing and it was perhaps the only use for the non-stop downpour from the heavens. He was cold and soaked to the bone but at least his burns were soothed if only temporary.

Eventually, his paws led him to a thickly wooded area with an abundance of plants. Most of them were unfamiliar, but he never was a healer. Pausing to sniff at some foreign foliage, the Déorwine heard a rustle nearby. His head shot up, red gaze scanning until it fell on a light color woman dusted with white. Cynefrid—?